


Next Generation

by Ms_Julius



Category: Techmomma's AUs
Genre: M/M, PotterAU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-12 04:37:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11154396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Julius/pseuds/Ms_Julius
Summary: When new generation of students arrives to the gates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, one particular Slytherin proves to be more than meets the eye. When the semester proceeds, professor Teabiscuits has to decide whatever the boy is just an extremely talented young wizard or a threat to the modern wizarding world.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All the main characters apart from Jacob Ridgepond and J.K Rowling's original characters belongs to http://techmomma.tumblr.com/  
> Please check their stuff out, these characters will steal your heart!

A mass of clouds had gathered above the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry just a few hours before the nightfall. Smalls drops of rain fell from the sky, bathing the scenery with shades of gray and making growing grass slippery under one’s feet. Students climbed out of the carriages pulled by Thestrals, glancing up to the dark skies with dislike while carefully stepping onto the muddy ground in front of the main entrance. Some of them found themselves feeling sorry for this year’s newcomers since the trip over the Black Lake was an ordeal even during good days, much more so when accompanied by harsh winds and chilly raindrops. But no one could deny that the view opening from the lagoon was worth of a while regardless of the weather.

All lights in the school had been lit to welcome the new population of witches and wizards, lanterns offering their fine glow to guide the students towards the Great Hall. Younger children didn’t bother to disguise the wonder with which they stared at the candles floating near the ceiling despite the fact that they had seen the festivities only a year earlier. The whole hall was decorated according to the occasion with bright flags of the four houses, colors changing from the flaming red to briskish green, from golden yellow back to blue of a clear sea. And though nobody could see for certain, some of the pupils could swear they catched a glimbse of a house-elves running around the room making last minute preparations for the meal. Teachers, however, had not arrived yet, leaving the stage up front empty aside from the chairs set around a long wooden table.

Up in the sixth-floor corridor of the castle, one of the professors was pacing in his private quarters, tapping an elegant finger against his lower lip while letting the thoughts spin inside his head. His long robes pillowed impressively behind him, the purple fabric switching its color back and forth between a vivid magenta and a paler shade of lavender. A couple of lanterns were set sitting on the shelf beside a bookcase, lighting  up otherwise dark apartment. Rooms themselves were decorated with various antique furnitures, giving the space a sense of dignity which went hand in hand with the aura coming from the short man marching back and forth in front of an unlit yet imposing fireplace.

It was a beginning of a new semester, at last. While a thought of a long vacation may seem appealing to some people, Teabiscuits most certainly was not one of them, never has been and never would be. He wanted to work, get his classes started and hopefully achieve some progress with a load of new students wandering into the halls of Hogwarts.

Everything was already prepared of course. He had used the last two weeks of his horrendously boring summer break to get his teaching materials all done, checking up some new books published during the last spring and generally going through his old notes from the classes years prior. Not that there was much left to do to begin with, he had made sure of that before the summer had even began. After all, he wasn’t the type of person to leave anything at the last hour and confirming everything was as up to the standards was his way of reassuring the wriggling emotions of uncertainty that emerged whenever he had to think of going into a new situation, being that a start of school year or an unexpected party invitation. If he didn’t have the time to plan ahead, he felt unease.

An old clock on the wall sang eight times, making him glance it while packing some of the last papers into a black leather bag. If he left now, he’d have enough time to set everything up for tomorror before the opening ceremony in Great Hall would begin. It wasn’t something he particularcy enjoyed participating given a choice, but Minerva had made him promise he would attend as least the sorting of the new pupils. Furthermore, she clearly planned on introducing all of her staff at once, and Teabiscuits’ absent could rise some unwanted comments considering his position as a defence against the dark arts teacher. After all, not many of his predecessors had survived more than a year in the post. The new Headmistress was determined to cut wings from such rumors, as well as banishing the dark loom surrounding Forbidden Forest and its creatures. An admirable ambition, he could admit that much, but an unattainable one. Teabiscuits if anyone knew all about chasing away old demons, and these sort of images took their time to fade. Minerva could try all her might to make them disappear, but he knew only future years with their new generations could vanquish the memories that haunted people’s minds. Self-consciously, he rubbed the dark mark still visible in his arm, although now covered by the fitted point arm sleeves. Some things even time could not fix. No matter how badly one wanted to.

With a shake of his head, he ridded the train of thoughts. There was no point wallow in self-pity right now. Swinging the bag over his shoulder he stepped outside, pressing the door shut without bothering to lock it. His magic would do the work for him, for he had enchanted these rooms to open for no one except himself and Mumbles whenever his grandson had the time to come visit. It was a type of blood spell, a rare branch of magic which he hoped to pass on to his older student in course of this year if they proved talented enough. He made a mental note to pay some extra attention towards some of the less advanced kids. With a bit of luck they could start training this before Christmas, making his schedule more flexible when the next spring would come.

While planning this new direction of teaching, he made his way through the castle’s narrow hallways with practiced ease. These halls were like a second home to him at this point. Years spent in the school had tought him all about the secret passages inside the walls of Hogwarts, and although using them was not encouraged in any way, he sometimes found himself passing through them without much of a thought. This was one of those evenings as he stepped aside from the formal corridor and continued his journey hidden from the gazes of the students and eyes of his snoopy colleagues.

A strand of cobweb tangled itself into his tied hairdo. The diminutive professor delicately ran his hand through it, making an effort to detach the tacky web without ruining the bun he had spent half of the morning assembling. Apparently no one deemed it fit to clean or dust these pathways every now and then, something he would have brought up in a staff meeting hadn’t it required him revealing that he was indeed using them to move around unnoticed. The headmistress wouldn’t take it lightly, demanding it set a bad example for student if staff members ventured into forbidden corridors within the castle when they were strictly forbidden area from the pupils. Teabiscuits huffed, shaking the web loose. As if any of those young buffoons were brave enough to make their way in here. A simple Garter snake had caused a riot last year, running wild in Great Hall when its owner had forgotten to lock up poor thing’s cage. It had taken the professors hours to calm down a pack of students who had been unfortunate enough to get caught in the serpent’s way. The accident still brought a slim grin to his face. A high-pitched scream from professor Hooch had been the highlight of his evening.

As he passed through a narrow part of the corridor near the library, his ears picked up some voices coming from the Restricted Section. Had he not been in a bit of a hurry, he would have made sure those youngsters indeed had a permission to be in that part of the library, possibly even catch some miserable soul redhanded and give out this year’s first detention note. But as he was already running late, he had to let it slide for once. This time he just had to trust the potential discipline actions for the librarian Madam Pince, even though he had his suspicions towards older woman’s judgement recarding student’s misbehavior and what a suitable punishment should be. She had grown soft after the war, letting young wizards and witches gain more freedom in her once stern kingdom of books. Lifting his left hand up to chest height, Teabiscuits let it rest on top of a delicate wand holster sewed into his robes, making sure his 18 inch wand was still placed safely close to his body, in an arm’s reach. He would never let himself turn careless or reckless, not even when the war was seemingly over. You never knew who held a grudge, or whose old habbits would spark up again. It had been considerably peaceful twenty years, for sure, but he still felt the need to check behind his back every now and then just to make sure nobody was following him, or even carry a custom made sneakoscope with him whenever he dared to set his foot outside of the school’s wards. Littlefoot had tried to talk him out of it, explaining that there was certainly no need for such precautions anymore, but somehow he just couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched when walking beside his husband in the streets of Hogsmeade.

Suddenly he came to realize that he had infact reached the first floor already, now standing in a cramped space behind a mirror right next to the doors of Great Hall where McGonagall and professor Flitwick were overseeing the preparations of the feast. If he wanted to be spared from confronting the uptight Headmistress in the middle of main lounge, he would have to slip past her back to the direction of library. It would extend his walking time about five minutes, but those minutes were worth sacrificing if it meant he could avoid facing the disapproving stare of Minerva McGonagall. Or worse, Flitwick’s cheerful attempts of trying to get him helping with arrangements.

With an agility and shiftiness possessed only by skillful ex-Death Eater, Teabiscuits pushed the mirror forward until a small crack appeared between a stonewall and glass, making sure no sound was to be heard while he slided through the gap. When he was certain that both of his co-workers were busy with the house elves, he quickly walked across the main hall, taking a sharp turn to the doorway leading back into the library.

A calming scent of old paper and leather welcomed him to the grand library of Hogwarts, a large number of books filling the shelves, covering every aspect of magic one could imagine. Tall bookcases full of pergaments, maps and volumes surrounded a small reading area in the middle of the room where tables with quills waited for the first sorcerers to arrive occupy them. Although it was only a beginning of the semester, there were several student already rummaging through the collection. They were all older teens, varying between ages of fifteen and seventeen, and definately from the house of Ravenclaw. There were couple of Hufflepuffs mixed in, working hard to get ahead as usual, but mostly the ravens had taken over the studyhall.

Teabiscuits ignored them all, striding along the main walkway which took him to the second door. On his way he was forced to go past the Restricted Section once again. As he walked towards the exit, a sound coming from behind the shelf caught his attention. It was a voice of a young boy, accompanied by lower tones of an older men. They all sounded younger than sixteen though. He couldn’t catch any names, but the way the youngest one of them spoke poked something in his mind. The sound was familiar to some degree, but felt a little off.

“How did you get it already? I thought your father said it would take at least three more months!”

“He told them to rush it. Had to get it done before the school started.”

“Well I’m getting mine before the end of the autumn! My granny says she got hers during her first year too.”

“Yeah but it’s gonna be a hell of a problem to get it done while in here. Should wait for a holidays at least. My dad once said that -”

The end of the sentence drowned under a loud clank of a clock. Quick glance at the longcase clock standing by the wall revealed that the slight change in his route plan had threw his earlier time estimate off a bit more than anticipated. Frowning to himself, Teabiscuits continued his walk to the door. He would let Madam Pince know about the encounter later, checking with her if the students in question indeed had any business being in that particular part of the library. What a marvelous initiation of a year that would be, having some nitwits to educate even before the first classes had a chance to begin! Although the conversation itself still lingered in his thoughts. It annoyed him to no end that he was unable to remember where he had heard a voice similar to the one he had just came across to.

Shaking the incident from his mind, Teabiscuits finally pulled open the door leading to the hallway near his classroom. Fortunately whole corridor was empty, making it easier for him to stroll straight to the end of the hall where he opened a final door to his personal sanctuary of teaching. Everyone with common sense knew not to disturb him here outside the school hours, and even the other teachers avoided coming to his class if the situation allowed it.

The room was adequate at size and when he had taken over the position of a DADA-teacher over two decades ago he had styled the space to look more of an arena than classroom. There were dosen training dummies lying in the back, a platform for dueling and an empty corner for the practicing of wandless magic during combat. After all, he was a teacher who believed in learning through experimenting. Of course there were tables set against the walls, but he rarely used them. Any writing needed was done in dormrooms after class in a form of homeworks and long essays.

Teabiscuits set his satchel on the oak table sitting at the front of the room and began unpacking few of the pergaments and books he had taken from his own quarters. While working his gaze fell to the framed picture situated to the table’s corner. Baby Mumbles was smiling widely within his arms, Littlefoot’s hand hanging securely over his shoulders. They were standing at the beach, blue waves twirling behing them, sky clear and bright. A true family portrait. He smiled and run his finger over the photo.

With the thoughts of his dear family taking over in his brain, a concern brought up by the boys in the library fell to the background, buried under the fond memories of his days with his grandson and husband.

It could wait until tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

His hands shoved deep inside his woolly coat, Nizar stepped into the tavern set beside of the Shrieking Shack. Lodge itself was not great in size but beared a cozy layout next to the deteriorating old building, the contrast making each house’s traits stand out even more. Two witches who run the place apparently thought that proximity of the famous haunted house would lure in more customers, in which they were correct; after the second war ended and Voldemort was destroyed, everyone wanted to see the place where Severus Snape, most notorious Death Eater and spy of them all, was killed. Even when the bustle started to settle down, the tavern called Last Location was able to stay in business. 

Personally, Nizar liked the place because of its relaxed atmosphere. There were enough tables for tens of people to sit, but the space didn’t feel cramped in any way. Large windows gave out to a less busy shopping street passing by and made the room seem even more open and welcoming. And best of all, in here customers would not practice any form of small talk or change unnecessary pleasantries. Keep your nose pointed at your pin and mind your tongue. Nizar knew to appreciate that for where he was from, it was not uncommon to find out more about one’s life from their neighbors than from the person themselves. 

Spotting an empty booth near the back, he flung his backbag over his shoulder and squeezed past old wizards who were standing in line waiting to make an order. While it was not the rush hour yet, it took him some time to maneuver himself over the table, all the while apologizing for the customers who got accidentally hit by his bag. After some tiptoeing he slumped into the seat, hoping that lady Caroline would take a pity of him and come to take his order so he wouldn’t have spend his evening standing at the back of the long line snaking through the tavern. Luckily the witch in question caught a glimpse of his recognizable fluffy hair and with a smile on her face danced through a horde of magicians to stand in front of one of her favorite customers.

“Nizar, my man! Where have you been hiding these past three months? I started to worry that I’m losing my touch when you didn’t stop by during summer break.” With a wink, she pulled a notebook out of her apron pocket, pencil already in hand. “And what might this gentleman’s heart desire? The usual or are we trying something new this time?”

The young man smirked. Caroline had a tendency to flirt with all of her clients, althought this banter of theirs had always been purily for the laughs and had gone on for years now. They both knew perfectly well they were irretrievably incompatible, but the joke just kept on going over time. Not that he minded, really. It was nice to talk with someone as carefree as Caroline who always viewed glass as half full.

Taking a quick glance at the menu lying on the table, he made his choice. “One pin of butterbeer, thank you. And as I know I can’t get rid of you until I order something new, I’ll just cut the chase and take my chances with an ‘unicorn’s daydream donuts’, whatever those might be.”

It was Caroline’s turn to grin as she wrote down his order, making sure to give him a discount meant for their longtime loyal customers. Before returning to the kitchen though, she whirled around and leaned once again against the wooden table. 

“I haven’t seen your grandfather in a while either. You sure the old man is doing okay? He used to come here all the time with you, and now seeing you both together out in public has come even more of a rare sight than a hippogriff’s foal in daylight.” A slight blush rose up to her cheeks. “I don’t mean to be nosy. It just strikes me as odd, you know. Hope everything is going smoothly between you two.”

Startled by the sudden change of the subject, Nizar looked up. He hadn’t thought about his granddad too much recently, that was true. He should make an effort to keep in touch more often, he knew that, but the past year had been a tough one for him regarding his career. So many decisions to make, different paths to choose from, everyone constantly offering their opinions. There was a time when this would have been a good reason to reach out to his guardian, but now things had changed. He had changed. And so had his grandfather, even thought he wouldn’t admit that even to his grandson.

With a sudden realisation that Caroline was still waiting for an answer, he pushed those thoughts aside. “Yeah, I think he’s doing fine. We haven’t really been in contact for a couple of months now but I know he still teaches at Hogwarts. Can’t think of anything that could make him leave.” He smiled widely, hoping to direct the conversation to another direction before she would start to question him further. “He never quite took a liking in your drinks. Says they have a soapy aftertaste.”

The incoming light from the streetlights reflected from Caroline’s reddish hair as she tossed it back while letting out a loud huff. “Your gramps has a tongue of a rattlesnake. I bet he could taste a moldy piece of cheese from a pile of blue cheese with honey on top. No wonder he only ever ordered a glass of mountain spring water when he came by.”

The conversation drifted off when other customers took a notice of the waiter standing out in the open. In seconds there were three wizards demanding for a chance to order outside of the line, pulling her away from the booth. Nizar watched as his friend lead the noisy crowd towards the main counter, smirking at him over her shoulder. He was sure he wouldn’t be waiting his dinner too long. After all, Caroline had a habbit of favoring her personal acquaintances over other paying clients. 

While waiting for the dish, he took his wand out of its holster hanging around his hip. With a snap of a wrist he conjured one of the nearby newspapers to fly across the room to his open hand. Not that he particularly cared to read them in the first place, but sometimes he took the time to actually sit and check what the tabloids wrote about him. As a possible candidate for a player spot in Britain’s national Quidditch’s team, he was currently under a deep radar, reporters searching for every reason to trip him over before the selection would be complite. 

At first he had been unsure of whatever he even wanted to take part in such a competitive setting. His current team was full of professionals, they made their living by playing full-time, but to represent his whole country under the flag of Great Britain was terrifying consept in itself. His coach and teammates had been able to see his distress and had assured him that he was more than capable of handling himself in World Cup. And while Nizar couldn’t fully shake of his own self-doubts, it proved to be fairly difficult to argue with men who had more combined flying hours during their time in professionals alone than he had on the broom in his whole lifetime. This was great opportunity, and as they had said, he would probably regret sorely if he chose to let it slide. 

But there laid the problem. As he flipped through the magazine his thoughts swang back towards his grandfather. They weren’t fighting per se, but after his life had started to make an appearance in the headlines of the newspapers, his grandfather had stepped back notably. Nizar knew all too well why that was. And the reason stared at him even now from the pages of  _ Youthful Journal _ .

**_“Death Eater in the ranks of National Team?_ **

_ From a reliable source, our reporter discovered that Britain’s national Quidditch team is in a process of recruiting a grandson of the infamous Sesquipedalian Loquaciousness Teabiscuits, ex-Death Eater and a current professor of a defence against the dark arts in the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Many parents have expressed their dismay regarding the fact that Headmistress of the school alongside the Ministry of Magic have agreed to let a convicted criminal teach in the academy for young witches and wizards, but so far any rectifying measures has not been implemented.  _

_ Our journalist interviewed a new captain of the team, Harold Grovehill, asking him what he thought about the possibility of having such player in his rank. ‘I guess one could say we need to keep an eye out for him, sure. But then again, I’m not one to judge’, said Grovehill. When asked about other players opinions in this matter, the captain was more direct. ‘We won’t tolerate any sort of discrimination towards our players. Should Nizar chose to join our team, I can say for certain that no resentment shall be heading in his way.’ _

_ While the team itself might welcome their newest member with open arms, fans of the sport have proven to be more pessimistic. ‘He is a relative of a murderer! That sort of thing can’t be overlooked just because the lad happens to be a talented Beater!’ said a lifelong fan of the Britain’s team, Mr. Justin Clayton. Similar results could be seen in a questionnaire made by our newsroom, where 73 % of the respondents said that they had some level of suspicion of allowing ex-Death Eater’s relative to represent Britain’s Quidditch community in national competition. _

_ We may see what the public’s true answer will be when the team’s official line-up is released. Our reporters tried to contact Mr. Teabiscuits and his grandson in an attempt of giving them a chance to respond to these accusations, but received no reply from neither of them.  _

_ Keep track of our latest news updates to make sure you stay tuned in this exciting story!” _

With a sigh Nizar placed the paper down, frowning at it. The article was full of rubbish, half-truths and  information taken out of context and yet it managed to get under his skin. As if it wasn’t already difficult enough for him to take up the offer, but seeing the public’s opinion of his selection was hardly any consolation. And what they meant by trying to contact his granddad? Of course he knew about his own refusal, the letter in question had been burned as soon as he saw the title of the message, but he had no idea they had dared to reach out to his grandfather who was even these days known to hex reporters who were too eager for their own good. There had been that one particularly unfortunate incident in Flourish and Blotts...

“Here you go, Niz. I put in some poppy bread, on the house. Aunt swears it helps calming one’s nerves so I thought you might wanna give it a try. Oh and she insisted on adding some mushroom soup too, something about you getting thinner and thinner every time she gets to see you.”

Lifting his gaze Nizar saw Caroline standing in front of him with a hefty tray of plates and cups, all balanced perfectly on her flat hand as she smiled down at him. Gratitude heavy in his eyes, he picked up a fork and waved Caroline off after she had made sure he didn’t need anything else at the moment. The food in the tavern was phenomenal and Nizar emptied his plates with good appetite, leaving only a piece of the bread on the salver. The feel of the pub had calmed down a little since most of the people had already gotten their orders and were now quietly chatting away in their own tables and booths. The ongoing flow of voices around him quickly lulled him into a light slumper, leaning his head against his hands and letting his eyes slip shut for a second. It had been a long flight on the broom earlier today, and it began to take its toll on him even thought he spent most of his days in the sky anyway. But traveling long distances with broom was different, more tiring. One should not blame him for feeling a bit worn out.

As he closed his eyes he could almost see his grandfather’s slightly disapproving glare, could nearly hear his proper, well-articulated voice chiding him for napping in the middle of open bar. Dangerous, unsafe, irresponsible! What if someone with murky intentions would walk by just now? Someone who had read the article and made up their own conclusions? Had he learned nothing? Even after that ugly scene in London five years ago when those huligans had drawn their wands in an attempt to cast an Unforgivable at him...

Then the voice would grow softer, more gentle.  _ “I just want you to stay safe, dearest. The world is a treacherous place and not everybody can be trusted. That’s why it’s so important that we have each other...”  _ At that Nizar opened his eyes, blinking. Those were the exact words his grandfather had spoken to him after he got caught while trying to sneak out at night with his friend Timothy at the age of 8. They had planned of going out to explore the city near their own tiny village, coming back well before the sunrise so no one would know. It didn’t take very long for the villagers to spot two small children running away from the grounds of the town, and even faster were their parents alerted about their plans.

His granddad had been downright furious at first, calming down only after Littlefoot and Timothy’s parents had pulled him aside for a moment, leaving two boys standing side by side with eyes wide. Nizar had never seen his adoptive parent so angry, not even when he had accidently charmed a front door of their house locked with unbreakable spell. It had taken other adults a good ten minutes to get Teabiscuits calm down enough so that the conversation could be continued, but to both boy’s utter puzzlement, Teabiscuits had stayed complitely silent the whole time, just looking at his grandson with a penetrating gaze of his icy blue eyes. It was only after Timothy and his parents left when the older man had spoken up, sitting down on Nizar’s bedside. 

“Nizar, you know how important you are to me, how much I love you.” Nizar lowered his eyes at the name. His granddad always called him Mumbles, even around company. Only when he was truly upset did he call him by his given name. He kept his gaze fixed to his bed sheets as his grandfather continued. “Earlier, I was not mad at you, at least not in a way you think. I was scared, Nizar. I thought of all the things that could have happen to you had you two were successful in your escape.” The old man squeezed his eyes shut, pained expression flashing through his face before he managed to compose himself again.

“I have told you about our past, remember? I told you what happened to your mother, and what I had to do to ensure you were brought to safety. I just want you to stay safe, dearest. The world is a treacherous place and not everybody can be trusted. That’s why it’s so important that we have each other.” Nizar could still remembered how his granddad’s hand had shook as he run his fingers through Nizar’s soft, curvy hair. The hand that was always steady, that never shook. But in that night it had shaken like a leaf in the wind. And the anguished look in those wise blue eyes was something Nizar had hoped to never witness again.

With a jolt he stumbled back to the reality, pressing the bridge of his nose in a pursuit of chasing away promising headache making its way up in the back of his skull. The chatter in the tavern had died down even more, and the building was now almost eerily quiet. Some of the remaining customers began packing up their bags and pushing the chairs out of the way as they moved towards the exit. Couple of wizards turned around and started climbling upstairs, having booked a room from the second floor. Caroline was still behind the counter, washing up last of the dishes stacked next to the sink. Lifting his bag, Nizar strolled to the main desk.

“Caroline, may I use one of your fireplaces? I need to make a call.”

A sly grin appeared to the young woman’s face and her brown eyes twinkled with mirth. “Of course, we have some available for customers in second floor. I think number 4 is currently free, you find it in the last room of the hallway, left side. Just make sure to lock the door behind you, you never know what kind of people are on the move these days. Someone might ‘overhear’ something you don’t want them to.” She shifted her gaze across the room and set it to a tall man still sitting in the corner table. He had his hat on but was clearly in no hurry to take his leave. Nizar regonized a reporter when he saw one, and this man almost reeked of would-be journalist waiting for his chance. He could even see the notebook peeking out of man’s open briefcase.

“Thank you, I see what you mean. I’ll make sure to watch out for that. Maybe you could sign me in for a night? I don’t think I’m in any condition to fly back home tonight.”

Caroline nodded firmly and opened the inn’s register. “I’ll just mark here that you’ll stay in room number 4 for one night, is that cool? And if that man-shaped leech isn’t gone by morning we could always extend your visit under a different name.” Nizar was not quite sure if this was meant to be a joke or if she was being serious, but at the moment he had no desire to think what he wanted to do with his time tomorrow. He just wanted to get some peace and quiet for now, and staying in an inn near Hogsmeade meant that less reporters would be likely to find him here and question him about his career goals. 

“We’ll see about that tomorrow”, he answered with a meek smile of his own. “Now I think I shall retire to my room, wouldn’t want to drag on that firecall.” Still speaking, he hauled the bag up and started making his way up the stairs. To his credit, reporter took this as a cue to leave too. Althought Caroline’s fierce glare might have something to do with that. Either way, Nizar was pleased to see him gone, for he had no energy left to worry about someone’s snooping around his room while he was resting. 

The stairs he was currently climbling were made out of fine oak tree, creaking only lightly under his weight. Hallway on top of them wasn’t too long, only 5 rooms altogether, each one locating within a comfortable distance from the main lounge area placed in the middle of the second floor. As he pulled open the massive pinetree door leading to his temporary quarters, he took a notice of the beautiful design of the room. It was certainly decorated in a intimate manner, carring an air of softness and tranquility with its mellow colored walls and big, comfy armchairs planted near a fireplace at the back wall. A huge bed took up more space than Nizar would have liked it to, after all he was only going to use it for a night, but its large size made it tempting nonetheless. Walls were bare, safe for few paintings presenting a landscape of northern England in its whole glory. 

But right now Nizar was more interested about the fireplace. Placing his belongins on the closeby velvet stool he squated down and took a small pouch of floo powder out of his pocket. Sprinkling it carefully in already roaming flames, he leaned forward and pushed his head into the fire. Hopefully his grandfather was either in his private rooms or  in office, otherwise he would have to try again in the morning and he really wasn’t certain he could maintain his determination until then. 

After some time the powder took an effect and launched him through the floo network of Hogwarts. Dozens of fireplaces, rooms and even the kitchen rolled past him in fast pace until the spinning finally steadied and he was able to see his nearest living relative sitting at his desk, watching something closely. A photo perhaps. Nizar was too far away and in an inconvenient angle to be certain. 

It was strange looking at grandfather without his knowledge. Very rarely did Nizar see him looking anything but formal, uptight professor that everyone had come to fear, or a fussing, overprotecting grandparent Nizar himself was more familiar with. At the moment, he looked emotional. Truly emotional, not in a way he sometimes made himself look while acting dramatic over nothing, but genuinely touched by whatever it was he still held in his hand. It was almost a pity to interrupt such a display.

“Evening, granddad. How are you doing?”

With a comical jerk of his neck, Teabiscuits’ head snapped upwards, eyes directed straight to the fireplace blazing in the corner of his classroom/office. Nizar watched as he stood up, took a few steps towards the fire and finally kneeled down to be face to face with his grandson.

“Mumbles! Oh dear me, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” He leaned further down, scanning the Nizar’s rounded face with care. “It’s been ages. And you have lost weight! Are you eating enough? Or training too hard? Are they making sure you get sufficient amount of sleep between games? You know how important it is for an athlete to monitor their diet and sleeping habits while practicing. I remember this one fellow during my years as a student in Hogwarts, talented Chaser for his time, but what an awful eating patterns! He would eat a heavy lunch right before the game, and you can only imagine what happened when a Bludger hit him right in his stomach -”

“Granddad”, Nizar put in, “as much as I would like to hear how that story ends, I in fact had an issue to discuss with you and it can’t really wait. Or at least I can’t.”

A minor tremble in his grandchild’s voice immediately got his attention. Frowning slightly, Teabiscuits settled back and raised one of his eyebrows. “And what might that be, dear?” 

Taking a deep breath, Nizar started. “I heard that you had been contacted by some reporters a while ago. I just wanted to know what exatly did they want to know and why did they asked you.” 

Teabiscuits put down the object he had been holding. “I didn’t answer them. They owled me couple weeks ago and apparently wanted to ask me question about your future career as professional Quidditch player.” He scowled thoughtfully, thinking back at the words used in the letter. “The tone of the note was not aggressive by any means, but I got the impression they would most likely try again sometime soon.”

That explained the journalist in the tavern. They were still after a scandal. Nizar exhaled loudly, pressing a palm of his left hand against his forehead. Hopefully the selection would be made soon enough, he was not the type of person who could try and play this off with some sort of personal charm and vague words of assurance for the press. He would probably just make things worse by slipping out something that could be misconceived or distorted into a complite opposite of what he was trying to say. He had seen that happen far too many times in his years as a player, althought rarely on his own part, thanks to his grandfather’s constant guidance over the subject. And even if he  _ did  _ mess up, Teabiscuits would be sure to tear down a whole news agency, guaranteeing they could never get a chance to practice their word-twisting again. The image of a destruction his gramps was able to cause made him shiver. The old man was quite venomous with words himself, not to mention vindictive as hell if the target of mistreating was a member of his family.  _ ‘The forest will answer you in the way you call to it’  _ was a sentence he used to declared when confronted about his numerous collisions with other parents of the wizarding community. He had even earned a nickname “Vendetta” in the mouths of young villagers of Alness who happened to be around to witness one of the many outbursts of the older wizard. 

Teabiscuits caught a small glimpse of the shudder running down Nizar’s body. “Are you sure you are alright, Mumbles? Should I inform your captain that you are not to play in the next game? Maybe we could arrange it so that you could come stay with me in the castle, the semester is only starting so there will be more time for me to take care of you if you’ll prove to be ill.”

Nizar hastily raised his hand, not remembering that the gesture was complitely pointless since his granddad had no way of seeing it. “Gramps, I’m 21 years old. You don’t need to contact anyone. And furthermore, I am already on leave. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to take a few days off before deciding about joining to the national team. My current captain was okay with it, I think she’d have suggested it herself if I hadn’t.”

“But that is even more of a reason to come and stay here, darling! You know I have room nowadays, the wretched hole they tried to accommodate me at first is now a problem of professor Limniris'. A new addition to the staff, have I mentioned? Pliant personality and respectable knowledge about the wild creatures of magical worlds, but such an uninspiring way of dressing! I talked a bit with her and -”

Once again, Nizar was forced to interrupt the patter of speech aimed at him: “Yes, yes. But back to the subject at hand; I won’t be staying with you this time, I already booked a room from an inn here in Hogsmeade. I could come to visit you tomorrow though, if you’d like? Maybe in the afternoon when your classes are over? I... earlier... It’s a shame we haven’t really seen each other for a while, don’t you think? Some old memories surfaced today and they put things in a perspective for me.”

A bright smile spread to Teabiscuit’s face, blue eyes glimmering with delight. “My dear, of course! You could come sometime around four, my last class ends at 3:45 and I have my whole evening free. And if you want to eat dinner here in the Great Hall, I am sure we can work something out with Minerva. She would be pleased to see you too, being a diehard Quidditch fan she is...” He huffed dismissively. Despite Nizar’s talents at the field, Teabiscuits wasn’t one to balance on a broomstick when it was avoidable. Wind messed up his hairdoes and it was problematic to try and look elegant while flying. Which was a main reason he had mastered the art of apparition at very young age.

Nizar just grinned, well familiar with his grandfather’s opinions. “It’s settled then. At 4 p.m. tomorrow, and later a dinner in the Great Hall. Maybe I should bring some fan merchandise for professor McGonagall, a red shrieking dragon mascot perhaps?” His grin widened when he saw Teabiscuits’ plain aversion.

“Do not encourage her, we are already in an all-out war in the staff room over the line-ups of this year’s World Cup. As if our own house-rivalry wouldn’t be sanguinary enough... McGonagall shouldn’t even have a side, she’s a headmistress for crying out loud! And yet she teases me relentlessly about my Slytherin’s last year’s defeat against Ravenclaw!”

“Well we can all argue about that when I get there. Although I might have to stand up to my old house, loyalty and all that”, he said with smile in his voice. House-pride had never been an issue in his family, but he knew his relatives had assumed he would be sorted in Slytherin like so many others before him. Guess every bloodline needed a bit variety.

On the other side of the floo, Teabiscuits rolled his eyes. “I reckon you would. But that’s a topic for tomorrow. Be sure to sleep well tonight, dear. You look a bit weary.”

“I will, gramps, thank you. I’ll see you soon.” With a final wave he pulled his head out of the fireplace and leaned back against the stool behind him. It had been less painful than he’d anticipated. And the promise of meeting in the next day warmed his mind more than he was willing to admit. His nerves started to unwind now that he had spoken with his grandfather, meaningless worries fading as he stood up and stretched his aching back. The large bed facing him looked even more alluring than before, and without second thought Nizar threw himself over the soft beddings, allowing his mind to drag him into the unconsciousness. 

Had he stayed awake a bit longer, he might have seen the flash coming from the direction of his windows. Windows which located 32 feet above the ground.

**Author's Note:**

> Please do point out any grammar mistakes, I'm sure some slipped through.


End file.
